


Eight Weeks

by deprough



Series: The Quill Brothers - in SPACE! [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brothers, Crossover, Family, First Eight Weeks, Gen, One Word Prompts, Peter is rather mean, Protective Peter, Quill Brothers, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deprough/pseuds/deprough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight random word prompts, one for each of the first eight weeks Tyrion spends with the Ravagers. Ratings and tags may change as the other prompts get written. teen!Peter and teen!Tyrion, pre-GotG and pre-GoT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow up to my story, Crash Landing. I wasn’t sure what to do after that and started a couple of things that didn’t please me. Then I saw an alphabet prompt by another author that inspired me to do short prompts about the Quill brothers. Each prompt is based on a random word and happens during one of the first eight week weeks Tyrion is with the Ravagers.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Week 1 - Can**

“What’s up with you?” Peter asked the words with a frown as he sat down next to Tyrion.

The dwarf didn’t look up from his datapad. He didn’t know that Peter was frowning but it was in the bigger teen’s voice. Worry and concern were there, too, and that tone was enough to stop the sharp reply that bubbled up in Tyrion’s throat. “Nothing. I’m studying the _Eclector’s_ drives.”

“Seriously?” Peter sounded disbelieving. “You’ve been in space for almost a week and all you’ve done is read. C’mon, it’s time for some fun. I’ve got some Melbivian slime-”

“Reading is fun.” Tyrion believed that but there was no joy in it tonight. His chest hurt with an unending ache.

Peter sighed huffily and Tyrion continued to ignore him. Without warning, Peter reached out and grabbed the datapad from him, putting it on the other side of his legs. Tyrion looked up, his face twisting with anger. “Give that back!”

Peter didn’t react to his words. “Ty. What’s going on, man?”

Rage and frustration twined in the smaller teen and he balled his fists. “There is nothing going on save that you think you can boss me around.”

“What? Ty, no, no.” Peter turned so that he was half-facing Tyrion. “Look, man, I’m _worried._ You’ve been withdrawn and I can’t remember when you last laughed. Did I-” He stopped himself with a grimace and when he spoke again, he was almost whispering. “Do I need to take you back?”

“Back to my father?” The words sent shivers down Tyrion’s spine. “No, of course not. I just-” He stopped himself, the next words catching in his throat.

“Just tell me what will make it better.” Peter put a hand on his shoulder. “I took you out of there to make things better and if that-” Now his voice tripped over the knot in his throat. “If that made you miserable, I need to fix it.”

Tyrion laughed, only a touch bitterly. “Peter, you don’t have to fix anything. I’m just a little homesick. Before you think that you need to help me repair that, I’m not sick for home. I miss Jaime.”

Peter frowned before comprehension dawned. “Oh, right! Your brother.”

“The only person who treated me with any kindness on Westeros.” Tyrion swallowed, feeling sorrow. “I feel guilty that I didn’t say farewell.”

“Well, lemme ask you.” Peter looked intently at the other teen. “If he knew you were happy out here, would he want you to come back?”

“No. Even if I did return, Jaime will be at King’s Landing.” Tyrion smiled sadly. “He has been chosen to a Kingsguard. I will never be allowed to go to the seat of the Seven Realms.”

“Right, I have no idea what that means.” Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red and silver cylinder. “But I get the idea that your brother would prefer you to be happy over being around him, right?” Tyrion nodded, amused at how Peter had broken it down. “Then he’d be happy you’re here, and would rather you stay here, rather than putting yourself in range of your father again.”

“Yes, I’d already thought of that.” Tyrion sighed. “I just _miss_ him.” The two were silent for a moment; nothing could be done to fix the problem and they both moved on. He pointed at the cylinder Peter held. “What’s that?”

Peter held it aloft as if showing off a prize. “This is my very last can of Coke. It was in my bag when I was kidnapped. I only had two, and I drank the first during a bout of homesickness. I’ve been saving this for a special occasion.”

“And this qualifies?” Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

“Sure!” Peter pulled on a metal tab on the top of the cylinder, breaking open a hole in the top. Tyrion could hear a sizzling noise from the inside of the can. Peter took a drink, making a soft humming noise of appreciation, and then passed it to him. The smaller teen took a cautious drink, choking a little on the strange fizzing in his mouth and the sweetness.

“Interesting.” Tyrion glanced up at him. “Is this a favorite of yours?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. My mom and I - we’d share one together while watching stars.” His lips twitched up in a smile. “They’re better cold.”

He wasn’t sure he liked it but the smaller teen was touched nonetheless. “I’m honored you’d share this with me.” Tyrion held out the drink.

“Dude, seriously,” Peter said as he took the can back, “I can’t think of a better person to share this with.”


	2. Prank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Prompt: Prank
> 
> Peter has a fun prank planned to do with Tyrion but then another Ravager goes too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one kinda got away from me and went a little dark. As it progressed, I found myself enjoying protective Peter. Though Tyrion doesn’t get to be in much of this, I still liked the interaction between him and Peter. I hope you enjoy it too.

**Week 2 - Prank**

Later, Peter would justify the entire mess by pointing out that Urbic started it. The hulking four-armed alien was well-liked by those on the crew who valued strength and brawn over cleverness. The rest of the ship found him to be a bully. It only took him eleven days to target Tyrion.

Peter had gone on a scavenging trip to help Yondu strip a freighter. It wasn’t dangerous work; the _Eclector_ had already disabled the ship and only a frantic last-minute jump had prevented the Ravagers from taking her immediately. Like a wounded animal, they’d followed the leaking fuel across space until finding her dead and disabled. Then the boarding crews had entered, killed the remaining crew, and everyone who could do the labor went over to help off-load the ship.

Peter had a bad feeling as he floated through the corridors of the freighter chasing down crates of goods. It kept him on edge and testy as he worked and it earned him a couple of dirty looks from the other crew members. It got to the point where Yondu cornered him in-between loads of materials. “What’s eatin’ you, boy?”

_Yondu has a fetish about food_. Peter couldn’t think of another reason for the alien’s fascination with eating in all meanings of the worlds. “I don’t know. My gut’s all tight.” Peter waved his hand around the general area of his stomach. “Somethin’s bothering me.”

The pirate’s eyes narrowed. “About the run?”

Peter grimaced and shook his head. “No. Maybe. I dunno.”

“Well, if you get some specifics, you tell me.” Yondu pushed him toward the airlock. “‘Til then, you got work to do.”

It wasn’t until Peter stepped back on the _Eclector_ and was met by Fendru that his unease manifested itself into dread. The matronly medic had a strange look on her obsidion face, like she was dreading something, and the look deepened when she saw him.

“He’s going to be okay.” Dru’s white eyes were wide as she stepped forward and put her hands on his forearms. She was a head shorter than him and had to look up to meet his eyes. “Peter, I swear - he will recover.”

“Wha-” A second later, he realized knew that she had to be talking about Ty. He didn’t care enough about anyone else here, except maybe Yondu, to have the reaction that the medic was fearing. The dread began a free-fall straight into terror. “What. _Happened?_ ” Maybe Dru should have been worried; his voice scared him a little, too. All of that was outside of the blazing fire that burned in his gut.

Dru opened her mouth but Scenica, an M-ship pilot, spoke. The blue-striped alien blurted, “Urbic.”

Peter’s vision went red. He’d had run-ins with the four-armed pirate before and only Yondu’s protection had kept him safe. Years ago in a moment of testosterone-fueled invincibility, Peter had pressed his luck and the leader of the Ravagers had let Urbic hit him once. It’d been a week before he could see out of both eyes again.

“I owed him once but I let it go because Yondu okayed it.” Peter glared at the watching Ravagers, not caring that word could get back to Urbic. “Now, I owe him two.”

Scenica smirked and darted forward, grabbing his arm. Normally, Peter had to fight to not get excited by the brush of the lithe body. Despite setting off his hormones, zhe was asexual. Today, he felt no desire other than the one for revenge. Zhe whispered in his ear, xir breath hot on his skin, “Let me help you. I owe him one, too.”

Yondu’s big hand clamped around the back of his neck. Peter mentally kicked himself for forgetting that the head of the Ravagers was here, too. He knew that the red-skinned alien was going to forbid him from pursuing his vengeance. Instead, the leader said, “Boy, you leave him alive, you hear?”

Peter met Yondu’s gaze, surprised. “Yes, sir!” The captain gave him a ghost of a smile, a slight twitch of his lips, and Peter realized suddenly that Yondu didn’t like Urbic either. “Thank you!” Then Scenica pulled him away to plan.

*  *  *

Though Peter and his rage didn’t like it, his intelligence had to admit that Scenica was right about one thing: a beat-down of the powerful Ravager would start a war of reprisals. Yondu wouldn’t tolerate that for long; worse, Peter was way squisher than Urbic or his pals.

Scenica wasn’t pleased to be planning in his room but Peter wouldn’t leave Tyrion. The smaller Quill lay in his bunk, resting. Peter kept staring at the bruises that covered him, listening to him breathe. Fendru had given him something to sleep, which was probably for the best. It left Peter pausing frequently, just to make sure he could still hear him breathing.

“Now that we have that settled, how shall we humiliate him?” Scenica lay across Peter’s bunk, zir long legs hanging carelessly over the edge.

“I just want to kill him.” Peter looked back at Ty again and his stomach twisted harder. When Scenica looked away for a moment, he reached out and brushed some of Tyrion’s hair away from a cut. _Why? He didn’t do anything to Urbic!_

Peter Quill _hated_ bullies.

“That’s not an option.” Scenica smiled. “Not until Yondu decides to cut him loose. Literally.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. “I do have one thing I haven’t mentioned.” He went to his footlocker and pulled out the sealed bottle he’d gotten last week. “I wanted to share this with Ty.”

Scenica sat up and leaned forward, a smile playing over zir azure lips. “Is that-”

Peter shook it lightly so that the black ooze inside rippled softly. “Melbivian slime.”

“You scare me or excite me, Peter Quill.” The alien’s blue stripes seemed to glow for a second. “I’m not sure which. And I am not sure which is better.”

Peter grinned. “Part of my charm.”

*  *  *

Scenica hung out near the doors at the top of the stairs. Peter watched zir extend zir pale blue claws and coat them with an epoxy. It was a thing the alien did to protect the nails, although Peter thought it was more a nervous habit now instead of actual grooming.

He glanced around the lounge again, taking note of who was here and who wasn’t. Peter had a few supporters here, just like Urbic did. Most of the Ravagers here were neutral in this fight but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t pick sides when it started. The tables and benches were only a quarter full, so there were only twenty or other people to worry about interfering.

The doors cracked open and Peter glanced up to see Urbic coming through them. His gorilla-like shape with an extra set of arms was impossible to miss. The Terran nodded once while darting a look to Scenica to warn zir. He didn’t take the time to see if zhe’d caught the signal; Urbic would be stepping through in seconds.

Peter stood and shouted, “Asshole!”

Urbic fixed large silver eyes on Peter and grinned. “Ready to challenge me, boy?”

“Don’t call me ‘boy’!” Peter hurled the object cupped in his hand. The crimi egg smashed in between Urbic’s eyes, exploding in a shower of pearly white and a smell that sent those closest staggering back. When Scenica backed away, zhe pulled a thin cord taut across the bottom of the doorway.

Urbic roared in fury and dashed forward. His feet caught on the cord and sent him tipping forward down the stairs. Peter darted to the side, pulling out the bottle of slime. Urbic landed facedown, which wasn’t the best thing, but Peter leaned low and poured it over the big alien’s face.

One of the four arms swatted blindly at him and caught Peter across the gut. He staggered backwards and tripped over one of the benches in the room. Sprawling on his back, the Terrian kicked his feet over his head, rolling up to his hands and knees.

Urbic’s bellow of rage changed into a shriek of pain. Peter watched as the big alien began to claw at his eyes, trying to get the black ooze out of them. A slow grin spread across his face as he realized the plan worked.

One of Urbic’s buddies dove at him and Peter only had enough time to shift and brace for the impact. It caught him low in the gut and carried him to the floor. Horin reared up, hammer-hard hands ready to pound him.

Scenica pounced on the other alien, knocking him half-off Peter. The Terran saw zir slash with zir hands and Horin’s blood flashed through the air. Then other Ravagers joined the fight, falling along internal allegiance lines. Peter was too busy keeping himself in one piece to worry about Scenica.

“ _That’s! Enough!_ ” Yondu’s voice wasn’t enough to stop the brawl but his sharp whistle was. Everyone knew that noise and tumbled apart, staring at the golden arrow hovering over the room. The only one still making a sound was Urbic, though his screams had become whimpers. “Who started this?”

Every finger pointed at Peter, save Peter, who pointed at Urbic. Fendru shoved past the panting combatants to kneel next to the keening alien. Peter stood up, straightening his torn clothing. He didn’t look at the arrow; he’d never have the time to dodge it anyway. He just looked at his captain and kidnapper and waited.

“So he’s still alive, boy?” Yondu’s lips curled slightly.

“Yes, sir.”

“But this is done? I ain’t gonna have to deal with this shit anymore?” Yondu ended with a low warbling whistle and the Yaka arrow looped lazily in the air.

“Urbic’s blind.” Dru butted into the conversation, her pouty lips pressing into a thin line.

“What?” Yondu’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s Melbivian slime and it’s in his eyes.” Dru glared at Peter. “That slime corrodes mucus membranes and the soft tissues of the eyeball.”

Yondu glared at Peter, his face twisting with multiple emotions. Peter waited quietly, trying to guess which way the unpredictable captain would go. Yondu pursed his lips and muttered, “He’s blind.”

“But alive.” Peter quickly rose to his own defense.

Yondu stalked across the room and snatched him by the collar. “Boy, what am I supposed to do with a blind pirate?”

“There are cybernetics-”

Dru stood up and almost got in his face. Though smaller than him, she was wider and still a little intimidating with her coal-black skin with ripples of blue scales.“Urbic’s people reject all artificial prosthetics!”

“Oops.” Peter had heard that but he had honestly forgotten. From the smirk on Scenica’s face, zhe had not forgotten.

“God damnit boy, what am I supposed to do with a blind Ravager?” Yondu bellowed again, shaking him this time.

“Door stop?” There was a fifty/fifty chance that Peter had just signed his death warrant.

Yondu’s lips twitched. Then he cracked a smile and let out a booming belly-laugh. “Damnit boy!” He let go of Peter’s collar and laughed for a few more minutes before the smile faded. He resumed glaring at Peter, though this time the anger was mixed with irritation. “Now, I gotta retire him.”

A chill went through the room. There was only one way you retired from the Ravagers. For his part, Peter felt a little bad but not much. Death was a really good way to make sure other Ravagers knew to leave you alone - you and those under your protection. “Understood.”

“Get him out of here.” Yondu waved at the blubbering alien. Several Ravagers hurried to drag him away. “And boy?” When Peter turned to him, he said, “Next time, you obey the spirit of my orders, not just the law.” Peter nodded and Yondu stalked away, whistling the arrow back into his hand.

*  *  *

Tyrion woke that evening. Peter was sitting next to him, patching up a hole in his shirt. His little brother gasped and jerked, and the Terran set the shirt and glue aside to put a hand on his head. “Hey, easy, Ty. You’re okay.”

“Urbic-” Tyrion gasped before cutting off with a pained grimace.

“Is gone.” Peter smoothed back the hair from his forehead. “Like, retired gone.”

All his effort and planning and worry was worth the moment when the fear left his brother’s eyes. “What happened?” Tyrion asked.

“That is an awesome story.” Peter grinned and said, “Do you remember me talking about the Melbivian slime? Well, when you get it on someone’s skin, it itches. It makes a great prank to play on someone – pour it down their back and watch them dance. But you shouldn’t ingest it or get it in your eyes, and here’s why.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One word prompt: Kid

**Week 3 - Kid**

The freighter’s distress call was received while the Nova Corp carrier was in the middle of a night cycle. Dey woke up from a deep sleep to a call to battle stations. He was half asleep while pulling on his uniform but he still made it to his station within the allowed response time. As his instructor had said, it counted even if you were asleep when you got there.

He finally woke up when his transport ship boarded the freighter. Rhomann was in the third transport so the action was over by the time he got there. The first two groups were handling the wounded and dealing with the ship itself, and it fell to his group to process the captives.

The line of captured Ravagers knelt in the main hallway, docile enough in their restraints. Most of them sneered at Dey and his fellow Corpsmen as they walked by them, surveying the group. Corpsman Kaal nudged Dey. “Hey, lookit.”

Rhomann followed the other corpsman’s pointing finger to the last two Ravagers. They were smaller than the rest of them, which was odd. Most of the space pirates were either hulking fighters or good pilots. Dey took a few steps closer, and found himself walking to the end of the line.

The closest was the bigger of the two, and as Dey walked toward them, he shuffled around a little so he was in front of the other one. The motion was completely protective which was interesting and a little curious. The corpsman circled wide as he got close, knowing you couldn’t trust a Ravager, no matter how small.

The bigger one was only a kid, his expression sullen as he stared up at the Nova Corp guards. When he saw Dey watching them, he scowled harder, as if he could keep them away by sheer force of his anger.

The smaller one really caught Dey’s attention. He was younger than even the first and someone has given him a hell of a beating. He couldn’t sit upright, slumping against the wall behind him. “He was the one who sent the message,” Kaal said, pointing at the bruised kid. “I remember him from the vid.”

Dey wondered if they’d beaten him up before making him send the message. The pirates were not above using a hurt kid as bait. They’d seen this from the Ravagers before: ambush a ship, clean it out, and then send out a distress call to lure in another ship. Only this time, the Ravagers had lured in a Nova Corp carrier and had fled rather than fight. They had left behind a few of their brawlers on board - and two kids.

Dey crouched down in front of the bigger, protective one. “Hi. I’m Corpsman Rhomann Dey. What’s your name?”

The kid stared at him a moment. “Star Lord,” he said, all bluster and bravado.

“Really?” Dey probably shouldn’t have laughed but it was a preposterous name. “Your parents named you Star Lord?”

“My mom--” The kid cut himself off. “I’m also Peter Quill.”

Dey looked at the other boy. “Tyrion Quill.” Tyrion added a graceful nod that seemed out of place on this ship.

“Brothers?” Dey asked, smiling a little.

The two exchanged quick glances before nodding. Dey wasn’t fooled. These two looked nothing alike so they were probably brothers of choice rather than blood. Tyrion was older than his size indicated, so Dey wasn’t even sure they were the same species. “Here,” he said, unclipping his water from his belt. “I bet you’re thirsty.”

“Thank you.” Again, Tyrion spoke like he’d been educated in a fine school, his words clear. Dey moved to the side and started to lean in, only to have Peter edge forward.

“You first,” the older boy said, his blue eyes suspicious.

Rhomann thought about arguing that he was in the Nova Corp and if he wanted them dead he could just shoot them. Instead, he tipped the bottle back and took a swallow. Only then did Peter allow him to give Tyrion a drink. He offered one to Peter, who just shook his head. “How old are you two?” Dey asked softly.

“Sixteen,” Tyrion said.

Peter scowled but admitted, “Eighteen.”

Dey smiled. The age of majority on Nova was twenty-five. He should be able to earn these two some leniency based on their age. “Hang tight, you two. I’ll be back shortly.” Rising, he went to find his commanding officer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dey will probably be in the next installment, too. That will be written as soon as my life permits.
> 
> Inspired by the request on Guardian-Kink: http://guardian-kink.livejournal.com/1806.html?thread=199182
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
